


Highest Bid

by nightfalltwen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 00:31:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfalltwen/pseuds/nightfalltwen
Summary: Ginny is managing the auction of seized pureblood property, monies from which will go to the reparations demanded from families with Death Eater connections.  Blaise is determined not to let these family objects scatter.





	Highest Bid

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **nopejr** at the **2010** Wizard_Love gift exchange on Livejournal.

***

Her shoulder blades hit the back wall of the coat check room and somewhere in the back of her mind the tickle of some old witch's feathered collar registered, but any sort of acknowledgment was put from her mind because his teeth were scraping across her lip in such a way that it drove her to complete distraction. It was a different sort of kiss than she was used to. Possessive with a sense of experience behind it. Controlling and dominating. It was a kiss she could match. A kiss she could battle.

A squeak escaped her throat when his hands slid down to grip her backside and pull her flush against him and Ginny's hands came up to splay on either side of his head. She could feel how much he wanted her and it made her head spin, her breath come in soft gasps and her heart pound. Her fingers flexed against the rough prickle of his hair. The last time she kissed a man with hair cropped so short had been that time in her fifth year with Dean Thomas. After that it had been all soft and tangled and something she could thread her fingers gently through.

She liked this.

She liked this a _lot_.

His hand crept up her thigh, taking her skirt with it.

God. If anyone had told her at any point in her life before this that she'd be pawing at one Blaise Zabini in a coat check room in the Grand Hall of the renovated Ministry? Ginny probably would have punched them in the nose. But with his mouth against hers, his hand creeping higher, his breath tangled with hers just as much as his tongue... Ginny didn't want to be anywhere else.

***

"Vicky, have you seen lot number six hundred and twelve?" Ginny dug through a storage container, flipping past angry paintings that shouted obscenities at her. Blood traitor. Trollop. Why some Slytherin's family photos had been sent down to her for auction was beyond her. Who would even want these? Other than the family they belonged to.

This had been the Ministry's stupid idea. The Wizengamot decided that all pure-blooded families connected to Lord Voldemort were to pay reparations to the wizarding world. Those who did not have the liquid assets had their valuable property seized by the committee to be auctioned off at a later date. Ginny thought the premise was ridiculous. Hermione had been telling her all about how the world treated Germany after the first Muggle great war of the twentieth century and it was this sort of thing that sparked the second great war. But she was just a junior clerk in cataloguing, still waiting to hear back from the Harpies about her tryouts. No one really listened to her protests.

"I've already sent that lot to the auction house. All we have left are boxes of paintings." Victoria Frobisher had been lending a hand with sorting through the lots. Her face was as smudged and dirty as Ginny suspected her own was. Nothing had been kept clean. A lot of the paintings especially were in dire need of a good dusting.

Ginny levitated a crate and headed for the door. "This is the last one then. The paintings can stay, Vicky. Heaven only knows who would ever want to bid on someone's personal portrait anyway. Thanks for your help. I know the Portkey Office is short-handed as it is."

Victoria smiled. "Not a problem. I needed a break from the complaining masses as it was. All 'what do you mean you don't have any portkeys left for Antigua this week?' or 'but I didn't know I had to hold onto my suitcase too. Now my knickers are strewn across the Loire River Valley!' and expecting that I'd be able to do something about it." She looked down at herself. "But now I need a break from this. And a good shower. Do you want to go to the Leaky after work?"

Ginny shook her head and hauled open the door to the storage room. Behind her floated the crate and it bumped into her back when she wasn't watching it. "Can't. Got supper with the family."

They'd been friends since their first year at Hogwarts. Victoria had only learned of her magical status the summer before that year started. And of course that had to be the year of the Chamber. A year Ginny longed to forget. Still, despite that rocky first year, the girls had remained steadfast friends. Victoria had even been accepting of Ginny's friendship with the very strange Luna Lovegood. So when the other girl gave Ginny a sympathetic look, Ginny only smiled back.

"It's not so bad. Mum's stopped lamenting the fact that Harry and I aren't together anymore at mealtimes. I think my threat to move to Canada and join up with the Moose Jaw Meteorites if she brought it up again really seemed to do the trick." 

That row with her mother had been quite spectacular. It had involved a few smashed plates and Molly crying about the loss of potential grandchildren, which was ridiculous because with seven children there were bound to be more grandkids. Ginny was still smarting from Harry's sudden declaration that he wanted to find himself and see how he could be just Harry on his own before he settled with any one particular person, but she'd temporarily sealed up that wound with a fictional sticking plaster and a whole lot of alcohol. As days went on, it got easier and easier. She still smarted, but she could glance at articles in the paper about him without feeling like her heart had been stomped on.

With that Ginny and Victoria left the storage room and took the crate up to join the other lots that were slated for auction in a few weeks time.

***

Ginny looked up from her work at a soft knock on the threshold of her office. She'd just finished numbering some of the items from Malfoy manor. If anyone bid on Draco's bronzed baby shoes, she swore she was going to eat her hat. The figure that stood in her doorway was familiar and it took a few moments to place him. Well. Not that many moments because there just weren't a lot of devastatingly handsome young men that she'd come across. At least not ones with dark skin and slightly almond shaped eyes. Ginny lifted her eyebrows.

"What can I do for you Mr Zabini?" she asked, setting aside her quill. Everyone knew who Blaise Zabini was. Former Head Boy who escaped scrutiny from the Ministry because he'd been completely and utterly neutral. His mother spent almost the entire war touring through the continent with little care as to what was going on with the politics at home. And Blaise? Blaise had never chosen a side. So his family had escaped punishment.

"I'm here to make you an offer, Ms Weasley," Blaise said, walking into her office. He pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket and flicked it at the one chair that was not laden with files and parchments before he sat down.

Ginny leaned back on her chair. The wood creaked. Not because she'd put on a few pounds, because she hadn't. But because the chair was old and since she was at the bottom of the pecking order, there wasn't a chance that she was going to get a new chair anytime soon. She made a flicky sort of gesture at the man sitting across the desk from her, hoping that it looked uninterested. She was actually kind of interested. It wasn't every day that someone came in to make her an offer. At least not personally. Usually offers were of an auction-type nature and they came flying in on winged memos.

Lots. Lots and numbers. And bids.

"What sort of offer?"

"I want to purchase your entire auction stock before it goes up for open bidding."

Ginny sat forward, looking baffled. "You're kidding."

"I rarely kid when it comes to spending money, Ms Weasley."

Ginny looked around the room. The entire stock. It would make her job so much easier. But there had to be a catch. With Slytherins there was always a catch. Especially since Blaise Zabini did not come across at all as the type of person who actually _wanted_ to own a pair of bronzed Malfoy shoes. Ginny folded her hands together and rested them on the surface of her desk. She waited. The details of said offer were going to have to come from him first.

But it seemed he felt that two could play at that game and crossed one leg over the other, waiting for her to ask.

"Alright," she said finally. "You've got me curious, Zabini. What terms are you proposing."

She watched in fascination as he took out a small notebook and what looked like one of those Muggle fountain pens. Harry had given her father one shortly before the two of them had broken up. Arthur had been thrilled at the self-inking quill, showing it to everyone he came across. The fact that one of the purest purebloods that Ginny knew, a family older than the Malfoys, was using something as simple as a Muggle pen. Well it was more than a little surprising.

"I want your entire stock. And this," he passed a folded piece of paper to her, "is what I will pay for it."

Ginny took the paper and unfolded it, eyebrows lifting at the offer. He wasn't serious. There was no way he was actually serious and that he thought that she would actually agree to giving him everything that the Ministry had seized for such a paltry amount. Her superiors would have her hide. She was so disbelieving of the offer that a bit of a laugh escaped her throat. She almost, _almost_ regretted it because the dark look that crossed his face made her sit back.

"I'm sorry," she said finally with a shake of her head. "But this sort of coin won't cover the cost of the Ministry's reparation request."

"Do you feel good about yourself, Ms Weasley?" Blaise asked, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. "Selling off a family's memories as you are."

"Hey, you just wait a minute. I'm merely sorting through all this." Ginny felt a flare of temper inside her. "If you have a problem with the Ministry's demands, repayment that will bring some help to families that lost a hell of a lot more than some stupid bronzed baby shoes..."

"Families like yours?" His eyebrow raised.

Ginny shot to her feet and pointed to the door, her face suddenly red with irritation. "Fuck you, Zabini. Get out of my office."

***

Days passed. First one week. Then two. Every morning there was a folded piece of paper on her desk. Sometimes the offer was more, sometimes it was less. And she knew it was from him because the writing was becoming more and more familiar. It was like some absurd game show where she was to make a deal or not make a deal. Ginny didn't even think she had the authority to accept his offer and when she saw the articles in the prophet, his interviews with Rita Skeeter about how he was only trying to give back to his housemates. That the Ministry was full of tyrannical Gryffindor bleeding hearts and nothing but a group of thieves looking to punish entire generations for something that a select few had done.

Ginny hated that she was included in this.

She hated that she agreed with him. To a point.

"Don't take it personally, Ginny," Ron said, sitting next to her at the Leaky while the two of them nursed pints of Butterbeer while Ron was on break from the Wheezes. "Zabini's a twunt. Just as bad as the rest of 'em. He just had the money and the excuse to get out of being punished."

Ginny sighed. The thing was, she'd read every single article that was written. Ron had rowed with Hermione about the very subject when the verdict had been put out into public record. That's when Ginny learnt about the first Muggle war and how everything went downhill from there. More and more things kept getting put into her office. Heirlooms. Tagged with last names. Parkinson, Nott, Davis, Goyle, Crabbe. Wasn't it bad enough that they'd lost a son? They had to pay too? It was starting to disgust Ginny and she felt so torn. Because every time she looked at George, missing his ear and missing half of _himself_ she kept thinking: why not? Why shouldn't they have to pay for the things that they'd done?

But how did money make up for that sort of thing?

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Ginny said, pushing back her finished Butterbeer. "Tell me about the shop. How's business today?"

Ron grinned and started chattering on about sales and numbers and what new products he was helping George with. He mentioned that Harry was off bouncing about the globe with a sidelong look to her, more than likely to see if she cared. Which she did not. After about twenty minutes of him talking and her mmmhmmm-ing to what he was saying, Ron had a glance at his watch and declared that it was time to get back to the grind. Ginny gave her brother a kiss on the cheek and thanked him for the drink, heading back to the ministry.

Blaise was standing outside her office.

"I can't talk to you," she said, putting her little silver key into her office door. "The Ministry is inundated with letters from pure families that chose no side demanding for this auction to not take place. They know you're instigating it. And how your little 'offers' keep getting past security, I've still not figured out. But you need to stop because I'm going to lose my job."

He held out a folded piece of paper between two long fingers. Ginny eyed it for a moment. Then she had a look at his fingernails. They were perfectly manicured. It made her suddenly self conscious of her own stubby nails that hadn't seen anything resembling an Emory board for ages now. What was the point of up keeping her hands if no one was going to look at them anyhow?

He didn't say anything. Just held out the paper and when she took it, he turned to leave.

Ginny unfolded the note and read it.

_Dinner. 8pm. Floo coordinates below._

"Dinner? Are you serious?" She looked up, but the corridor was empty. 

Everything her brothers had ever said about strangers and boys with intentions flashed through her head. Don't just go wherever a boy tells you, Ginny. Be smart about a boy; they're only after one thing. If we catch you dating a good-for-nothing Slytherin. 

But she was in her twenties. She was a smart girl. She was not about to hop into bed with Blaise Zabini of all people. Heaven only knew what sort of girls he'd slept with before. And she wasn't about to acknowledge the heated blush that was colouring her cheeks as she stood there, staring dumbly at this invitation. There had to be a reason. Supper and then he'd demand her to cave and sell him the auction stock? Slytherins were cunning and always full of ulterior motives. She didn't trust him. Not as far as she could throw him. And that wasn't far.

But she was far too curious to toss away the note.

***

"What is it that you really want from me, Zabini?" Ginny asked finally when all other attempts at conversation this night seemed to fizzle like a wet firecracker. "I'm just a clerk. I don't even really want to be working at the Ministry, but the Harpies aren't holding open tryouts again until next year."

She wouldn't admit it aloud, but dinner had been wonderful. The food was exquisite and she'd had a chance to see a little piece of Blaise Zabini's inner world. While she wasn't a fan of being served by House Elves, Ginny didn't protest because they were really good cooks. Especially with their afters. Some sort of fluffy mousse thing with whipped cream and chopped nuts. Ginny felt like a glutton. She'd eaten far, far too much.

"I wanted to know if you were like the other Gryffindors."

"What?"

A strange sort of look, maybe a smile, appeared on his face. "Do you think you're the only one who's been getting letters?" He gestured to a sideboard that had a stack of letters. Some of them moved of their own accord and Ginny suspected they had been hexed. There were also sprinkles of ash as well. Howlers. "A lot of angry Muggleborns and half-bloods have been writing me. There's at least three from your brother, Ron, who seems to have quite the mouth on him."

Ginny set down her fork. "I didn't know. I'll talk to him. He shouldn't be getting involved like that."

Blaise waved his hand dismissively. "It's the price I pay for having an opinion that goes against a narrow-minded sense of justice."

Ginny felt her hackles raise just a little and Blaise must have noticed it because he paused, setting his espresso cup on its saucer and leaned back in his chair. She pressed her lips together and tried to choose her words properly. "Look. Is it really so bad that former Death Eaters are being made to pay a penalty?"

He arched a brow. Ginny almost wanted to roll her eyes. What was it with Slytherins and arching their brow? Like they thought it was the best way to communicate with someone. Blaise picked up his espresso cup and took a sip. Ginny hadn't touched hers. She didn't care for the bitter liquid and would much rather have been offered a gentle cup of Darjeeling with lemon and honey. But she hadn't said anything to that regard.

"The fines were ridiculous," he countered. "And the Ministry stealing family heirlooms when families couldn't cough up? Even worse."

"I can't change their minds, you know."

"You could refuse."

"And what would that accomplish? They'd find someone else, less sympathetic to even be careful with the objects and then where would we be?"

"Hmmm," was all he said in response.

***

Auction day came before Ginny had even realised just how close it was. The Grand Hall of the Ministry was filled with chairs and younger clerks handed out paddles with numbers on them to those who entered. Some of the people were disgraced purebloods looking to try and reclaim some of their personal property at whatever the cost. Others were wizards from abroad. Ginny saw Luna Lovegood chatting with a dark-skinned woman with a giant swath of fabric wrapped around her head like a turban only not quite. Luna had been working at _The Quibbler_ since leaving school and Ginny could see the other girl's quill darting across a scroll of paper.

Ginny was grouchy. Her mind had been stuck on Blaise Zabini and his questions and his continuous folded pieces of paper looking for her to sell off his friends' personal items at a low, low cost.

And then. And then the bugger didn't even have the gall to show up at the actual auction. She didn't see him in the audience as the Lestrange items went through the process. All the actual Death Eater things were done first. Then there would be an intermission. Food and drinks were served. It was like a party. A celebration of 'ha ha we sure got those purebloods and rubbed their noses in it." The joviality of some of the clerks was actually quite disgusting that Ginny sent one of the workers below her out to help with the lots while she stayed with the coats.

"Feeling guilty?" A voice spoke from the coatroom doorway.

Ginny whirled around. A frown appeared. "Why aren't you out there saving your friends' things?" she demanded.

"Did you think I would even have a chance of outbidding the Sultan of Brunei?" Blaise said softly. Everyone knew that the south Asian kingdom was not only an absolute Islamic monarchy but also an entirely wizarding nation. Ginny had seen the Sultan and his bodyguards arrive. They'd taken a front row seat. With number six-thirty-two.

"But you could have tried. You could have done something. You've been throwing cash numbers at me for weeks now. I even tried to have all the items from the families of students from your year put at the end of the auction for you."

"Why?"

Ginny look flustered. "Well... _because_. You wanted them so badly and I certainly didn't have the galleons to purchase anything, even if I'd coupled my wages with your silent bids, it wouldn't have been enough stop this." She looked at him, the words sort of just tumbling out. "I tried, Blaise. I asked them if this was necessary. I tried to get Hermione to start a campaign. I don't like what we've become all gloating and thinking that we're all above this, when really all it is, is _looting_ and it's not fair and it makes me feel awful now that I couldn't say yes to those. I wanted to stop it for you. Because you're right. This is ridiculous..."

She couldn't speak anymore because his mouth was in the way. Ginny made an embarrassing sort of 'mrrf!' against his lips when his arms came about her. This was surprising to say the very least. Ginny stood there, stunned, until something else snapped inside of her and her arms flung over his shoulders. The lights went out, but only because he'd kicked the door to the room shut and pushed her back into the row of coats. Oh god. Oh _god_ , Ginny gripped at the back of his robes and opened her mouth to him. She was snogging Blaise Zabini. Snogging him. In a coat closet.

It happened so fast. The heated kiss, the tickle of someone's feathered collar, his hand snaking (ha!) up her thigh.

It shocked her. It shocked her because it turned her _on_.

It wasn't slow or pretty. This wasn't making love. This was a heated fuck. Knickers torn away, zipper's lowered. She didn't know why and really didn't care. His teeth came against her neck and he thrust into her over and over again. Ginny had never burned so hard for another person. She couldn't think straight. She forgot all other people before him and couldn't see anyone she'd rather have afterwards.

"Excuse me?" There was a knock at the door. "Excuse me, I'd like my coat."

Ginny blinked, just barely able to see Blaise now that her eyes had adjusted. "Stop," she hissed. "We have to stop. There's someone outside."

For the first time since he'd stepped into her office way back when, Ginny heard a strained sort of crack in his voice. "Let. Them." He slid two fingers between them and started to circle her clit rapidly. "Wait."

The knock was louder and Ginny thought she recognised the voice, though she wasn't sure. And really it could have been the Dark Lord himself looking for his coat and Ginny probably wouldn't have wondered or worried because her eyes were crossing and she had her face buried against that damn feathered collar and everything was sticking and sweaty and wonderful and she was coming so hard that she wanted to pass out. He gave a few more thrusts before he buried himself deep and exploded inside of her, possibly biting a coat of his own to muffle his shouts.

There weren't any other knocks or calls out. The person probably, hopefully, walked off.

"Oh my." Ginny tried standing but her knees refused to cooperate. He lowered to the floor with her, licking at her neck and still inside her. "What... _Why_?"

"I've been wanting to do that since you told me to fuck off and get out of your office." He panted. "I couldn't stop myself like I did all the other times."

Ginny felt like she was in dire need of a shower. He clothing stuck against all the damp parts of her skin and with the way they were lying, she really had no choice but to keep her legs sort of around his hips. He still hadn't pulled out. And her body was still twitching around him. Thank god, however, that the room was dark because she was sure that her face was heated and red. Both from the sex and from what he'd said. Everything was a little topsy-turvy now.

"But you were always so calm and collected."

"Slytherins are consummate actors. We hide our raging hard-ons really well. I'll tell you about fourth year and Draco Malfoy's success around the girls from Beauxbatons."

"And the auction? Your bids?"

"That was something else entirely. I was trying to make the world see how terribly they were treating people who didn't have a choice a lot of the time. And the items will be returned to my friends."

Ginny sat up slightly, propping herself with her elbows. "What?"

"My mother is well acquainted with the Sultan of Brunei." He held his fingertips against her lips, probably knowing that she was going to throw a fit, and rolled his hips against her, somehow managing to send little sparks across her hypersensitive flesh. "I didn't know he had agreed until he showed up today. My attempts were genuine. As were yours. And my feelings were still the same. Wanting this over and wanting you like mad. Hassanal is just going to buy everything and give it all back. He finds it entertaining."

When his fingers pulled away from her lips, Ginny looked at Blaise. Sort of. She could only see little highlights of where he was in the dark.

"So what now?" she asked after a moment. Everything was working out for him. She didn't know how else she would be involved.

"We go back to my place."

"Oh?" Ginny tried raising an eyebrow but she was pretty sure she raised both. And was very glad it was dark.

"A mad fuck in a coat check room isn't exactly my best work, Ginny Weasley."

Ginny felt herself smile and she leaned up to kiss him hard. "Well then. By all means."


End file.
